


In Dreams.

by lustig



Category: Les Trois Mousquetaires | The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas, The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Based on a Tumblr Post, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 07:38:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16035950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lustig/pseuds/lustig
Summary: Sometimes, Treville dreams. Mundane things, mostly. (Though not always.)A book. A woman’s devious smile. Louis.An empire built in blood red silk.---Armand dreams in shades of blue.The sky. An eye through a mirror. The reflection of a blade.Musketeer soldiers training.They both know they are meant for each other. Soulmates, even.They are just not ready to acknowledge it.





	In Dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on these posts on tumblr: [Part 1](https://here-comes-all-the-cotton-candy.tumblr.com/post/169829480093/part-one-based-off-that-soulmate-au-where-you) \- [Part 2](https://here-comes-all-the-cotton-candy.tumblr.com/post/169937079743/part-one-part-two)
> 
> Betaed by the always awesome [donkey2323](http://donkey2323.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Lyrics in the beginning from [The Breaking of the Fellowship (LotR OST)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sQ9NOV3KNpY)

 

# And in the dark I hear your call  
(Red & Blue) 

_But in dreams_  
_I can hear your name_  
_And in dreams_  
_We will meet again_

 

 

 

### 1.

 

The first time Treville dreams of his soulmate, he isn't even ten years of age. He doesn't see much that night, only whispering silk, a church, a cross.

 

He isn't the most religious of boys, so he doesn't give it any further thought, and he doesn't recall this incident for a very long time.

 

 

 

### 2.

 

The next time Treville dreams of his mate is more than six years later, and he sees Paris and two people he thinks are the King and Queen of France, judging by their clothing and surroundings.

 

There are many other people – nobles – and most of them look at him with disdain.

 

He wonders, after waking up, what he has done to deserve so much hatred from so many people, and he realises that he will have to find a way to court to meet his significant other. He hopes for a highborn lady, even if he already knows that his soulmate is too tall to be female, and he worries.

 

When people ask him about his soulmate, he just smiles sadly and shakes his head, and their eyes soften in understanding and sympathy. They live in hard times, and many children die long before they reach the age of dreaming.

 

Two years later, he joins the French Guards.

 

 

 

### 3.

 

The first time Richelieu dreams of his soulmate leaves him trembling and panting, his heart racing.

 

He has never been a dreamer, sometimes feverish nightmares but he doesn’t sleep enough to allow his mind the blissful escape to other worlds.

 

Thusly, the dreams come as a shock.

 

While he lies there in his bed, eyes fixed on the familiar structure of the ceiling, he tries to think about what this means.

 

First, whoever his soulmate might be must be at least ten, more likely fifteen years younger than him – for the dreams start when both parties have reached or passed puberty, or so he has heard.

 

Second, the still lingering smell of gunpowder and leather in his nose, in his mind, in his memory makes it pretty clear that he is _damned_. (Which is nothing new to him, but still. This is something else _entirely_.)

 

His significant other does not even have the _grace_ to be female.

 

It makes him inexplicably angry.

 

He has been happy to live without a soulmate. With the knowledge that he _has_ no soulmate. It has made the choice (his fate, if he is being honest; there was no _choice_ in the path he has taken, in the way it found him the position he has now) to leave the army and join the Church a lot easier.

 

He can only hope that this sudden disruption won’t find his way to court.

 

(He won’t admit it to anyone, but he sleeps better that night than ever before, the smell of arms and horses and leather still heavy in his mind.)

 

 

 

### 4.

 

The dreams only come sporadically; sometimes his mind is empty of his soulmate for weeks, even months.

 

Treville still tells people that there is only darkness when he goes to sleep at night, and for the most part, there is.

 

It might have something to do with him falling into bed dead tired day after day after long hours of hard training, of swords and guns and horses and wrestling.

 

It makes things easier, and he doesn’t know if he’d even be able to explain to anyone why he grows more reluctant to meet his significant other, day after day.

 

The structured, monotone life of soldiering helps keep him sane and keep the charade up. Yet when his fellow, soulmate-free comrades offer him physical comfort, he still refuses.

 

 

 

### 5.

 

When nearly six years go by without word of his mate, only a dream every now and then filled with gunpowder and mud, shouting and fighting, Richelieu slowly starts to relax. Whoever his soulmate may be, he obviously isn’t able to make his way to court, and the Bishop thanks his God in the quietness of the night, only days before he is named Cardinal.

 

(He refuses to acknowledge that he not only sees the fighting and the horses but also the blue and the flag that tells him exactly how far away his soulmate is – in the only regiment under the King’s direct command.)

 

 

 

### 6.

 

The night he dreams of the letter he wakes up gasping, staring into the darkness around him for seconds, maybe minutes, in stunned silence. A sob he doesn’t know he holds escapes as he struggles to regain his composure. Everything is a blur, and he angrily tries to fight the tears.

 

There is no reason to cry. He has known for a very long time that his soulmate is connected to the Church. He has known for a very long time that his soulmate is out of his league.

 

But a part of him had still hoped.

 

His dreams turn red not even two weeks after. There is no mistaking who his soulmate is anymore. There is only one Cardinal sitting in the king’s council. There is only one Cardinal dreaming a king’s dream.

 

For the first time, he considers strong wine to drown his sorrows in. He fights it successfully, but finally accepts the offer from one of his comrades the following night. When he is unable to show any response, they stop asking him.

 

 

 

### 7.

 

 Richelieu’s dreams turned blue a long time ago. But when the king forms his Musketeers, the blue changes, just a fraction, and he feels it. Only the most vigorous, the most virtuous of the French Guard are allowed to join the new regiment. To know his soulmate is part of them makes Richelieu both proud and exasperated.

 

Proud – for whoever his soulmate is, he has shown enough dedication and skill to be called the best among the best. He has shown enough dedication and skill to impress the King himself.

 

Exasperated – for the musketeers promise _trouble_. They are sons of nobility, they are educated, some of them even having brains above the size of a walnut. They won’t just follow orders. They will try to break the rules, they will try to be boisterous and loud and obnoxious.

 

But for a moment Richelieu allows the knowledge that his soulmate is not just _anyone_ to make him happy and he wakes up to feel a smile spread over his face.

 

 

 

### 8.

 

Their dreams stay quite the same after that, for a while.

 

Blood red silk and silent whispers. The King, the cross, the bible. Letters and ink, wine and sealing wax.

 

A blue coat, the sky’s reflection in puddles and the gleaming blades. A uniform well kept, eyes in the mirror.

 

Sometimes, very seldom, each other. Treville realises when his soulmate’s eyes wander over his broad figure. Richelieu tries to ignore the musketeer he catches staring at him, time and time again. They both know it’s a dance and they both know their partner. They are just not ready to admit it to themselves yet, let alone each other.

 

Years pass. They are as content as two soulmates can be, nearly in reach yet still too far away to take that last step.

 

 

 

### 9.

 

When he wakes with the sight of d’Orleans surprised, drowsy face still burning in his mind, Treville nearly rushes over to the Palais Cardinal to _throttle_ that reckless idiot out of his stupidity. He is stopped only because his own body refuses to cooperate, still shaking from the blind panic he feels.

 

He nearly lost his soulmate, and he knows it. He is so very aware of it. But when he is finally able to think again, he is glad that his body betrayed him that morning. He has no right to visit the Cardinal. He can’t just storm his private rooms and demand an explanation. Or an apology. They are soulmates, but they are not associates. He has no right to call his mate out on _anything_.

 

When he is unable to hit his aim for the rest of the day and his defence with the rapier is off, he blames the ice saints for giving him a cold. No one asks any more questions. No one can be made responsible for the actions of their soulmates, and the few of them who assume that there is more to Treville’s story of a soulmate lost before they started to dream don’t confront him. They are in the same boat, after all.

 

 

 

### 10.

 

The siege of La Rochelle puts them on the same battlefield. If it can be called a battlefield, that is. It’s better described as a long and unbearable wait, and they are separated by more than space alone.

 

Every now and then Richelieu dreams of the anger and disdain his mate has for him, of his compassion for the people behind the walls, slowly dying of hunger in the once prospering city. Every time he wakes up after a night like this, he has to explain to himself _why_ he has to do it, again and again. After a while, his words start to sound hollow, even to himself. He doesn’t sleep well.

 

 

 

### 11.

 

When Treville gets wounded, Richelieu feels his pain as if it is his own. He goes down, very nearly, and it is only thanks to his iron-strong will and the knowledge that this is not physical pain that he doesn’t. He keeps standing, even when his throat constricts and his sight blurs.

 

He cannot show weakness. Not here, not now. Not because of something as mundane as a soulmate he hasn’t acknowledged. Not because of something as mundane as a soulmate he won’t acknowledge, not now, not in the future.

 

 

 

### 12.

 

The seawall still stands, and Treville is glad. He is barely conscious, and everything around him is an angry blur, but whenever he closes his eyes he can see the waves crashing against the old ships, smell the salt and the wind and the sea and he feels safe.

 

So he sleeps.

 

 

 

### 13.

 

When the battle is over, won, his body aches to visit the hospital, to make sure his soulmate is okay. His mind almost supplies him with an excuse to do exactly that before he can stop himself. He is the Cardinal de Richelieu. He is the First Minister of France. He is the right hand of the king. He doesn’t just follow his instincts like a bloody _animal_.

 

In the end, he stays away simply out of spite.

 

 

 

### 14.

 

They both dream more regularly for a while, maybe because of their close proximity and the lack of other distractions, but the dreams come nearly every night for two, maybe three weeks straight.

 

It doesn’t vary much, they’re still both at the siege, but it gives them both comfort while they listen to the cries of the dying city, day in, day out.

 

Treville wishes for the other soldiers to have their soulmates nearby, too, for he feels like the dreams of waves crashing against the seawall are the only thing that keeps him sane at the end of the siege.

 

 

 

### 15.

 

When La Rochelle is over, they both feel a little less hostile towards each other, and the king smiles, pleased when a whole day passes without his First Minister complaining about his favourite regiment.

 

 

 

### 16.

 

Strands of silver already mix themselves into the red in his dreams, and the musketeer is painfully aware of the time that passes. He, himself, isn’t the youngest anymore, but the Cardinal is more than a dozen years older than him. And it shows.

 

He tries, for the first time, to approach Richelieu by day and at court but is brusquely dismissed by one of the Cardinal’s Musketeers.

 

His Eminence doesn’t have to ask the three of his musketeers who are unable to turn up to training the next day what happened to them. He had seen the fight through the eyes of the King’s Musketeer and doesn’t know if he should be amused or angry about the hothead of the other regiment.

 

( _His soulmate,_ a part of his mind, that he still successfully ignores most of the time, unhelpfully supplies.)

 

 

 

### 17.

 

The day Louis XIII names him captain of the King’s Musketeers, Treville hopes Richelieu will finally acknowledge him, at least in private. One word, one smile, one touch is all he wants.

 

For a moment, a day or two, maybe even a week, Treville allows himself to dream.

 

But nothing changes.

 

The only thing that does is their constant presence at court, the left and the right hand of the King. His dagger and his sword. His heart and his mind.

 

It frustrates the Captain to no end, and it shows. Up until now, Richelieu might have had a small, last excuse to not know who his soulmate was. Up until now, he has only been one musketeer amongst many.

 

But now that he is captain, there is no mistaking in who his soul is bound to. Not for him, not for Richelieu. Yet when he tries to confront the Cardinal about it, he is unable to get through to him, again.

 

 

 

### 18.

 

Their shouting matches are legendary. They tear him apart on the inside. More often than not it’s him who leaves first, because he can’t bear it, looking into the eyes of his soulmate, the very eyes he will relive the day through the following night.

 

Every argument, every fight, he sees and hears twice.

 

So he focusses on training the new recruits in his regiment, drilling them into excellence, giving them all his energy.

 

He is tired. The dreams are more silver than scarlet by now.Still an empire built in blood red silk, but the colours are already starting to fade.

 

 

 

### 19.

 

While Treville had nearly stormed the Palais Cardinal after the first major assassination attempt against his soulmate, he only closes his eyes when he wakes after the second one, dreaming of the fields of Amiens and Gaston.

 

He knows by now that he can’t change anything that goes on in the wild head of his mate. So he doesn’t bother trying anymore. He doesn’t even try to make contact anymore. He has learned his lesson.

 

Richelieu doesn’t want to have anything to do with him. He’s not fine with it (how could he be, the Cardinal is his missing other half) but he is too good a man to try and press himself on the other when he is so clearly unwanted.

 

And he has worried enough those last few weeks, fearing for his soul’s rest’s life day and night, for his infection has gotten worse over the last month.

 

He doesn’t think there is anything left in him to give to Richelieu. He already owns anything of value of Treville.

 

 

 

### 20.

 

The day they bury the Grey Eminence, his _friend_ , maybe his only one, he truly wishes for the comfort of his soulmate’s touch for the first time. He locks himself up in his room for three days straight, refusing to see anyone and _hoping_ against all the odds that maybe, just maybe the Captain of the Musketeers will try to call on him.

 

He doesn’t.

 

When Richelieu finally comes out of his self-imposed hermitage, he feels like a changed man.

 

He feels alone. Terribly alone. Surrounded by people that hate him, people that try to backstab and kill him at any given choice, people he has tried to give a better life to. And shunned by the man who owns the other half of his soul.

 

He knows that it’s _his_ fault, yet he can’t help but blame the younger captain.

 

 

 

### 21.

 

The night Treville sees the red coming back he smashes the nearest breakable object against the wall. Only the knowledge that his recruits and Musketeers are asleep right now saves him from shouting his anger and pain out for the world to hear.

 

Blood in a handkerchief wetting trembling, pale lips, is never a good sign. The floor is too close, the bed, a stool, anything, too far away. The great red beast of the Louvres is brought down by a nasty cough, kneeling on the ground, gasping for air and spitting blood.

 

Treville has never before felt so helpless. This is an enemy he can’t fight. This is an enemy no one can fight.

 

It might still be some time, but Richelieu is dying, and his hated soulmate is the only one who knows.

 

 _Richelieu doesn’t deserve this_ , is what he thinks, over and over again. _He doesn’t deserve this_.

 

His hands are trembling like the Cardinal’s lips as he picks up the shards spread around his quarters. He won’t sleep again this night.

 

 

 

### 22.

 

That they still try to remove Richelieu from his position of power when it is already common knowledge that the great Cardinal is dying is beyond Treville’s understanding.

 

And so he goes and visits the execution of the traitor Cinq-Mars, for he knows that his soulmate can’t. He will be his eyes and ears; he will offer him the breaking gaze of the noble scum trying to sell France to the Spanish and getting rid of Richelieu on his way.

 

After finding out about the First Minister’s degrading health he stopped moving out of his mate’s way or refusing to meet his eyes, yet he still doesn’t approach his Eminence.

 

Richelieu has rejected his presence in his life since the day they first met. If he wants him now, when his time grows close, he will have to ask for it. Treville will not make the first step towards reconciliation. But he won’t oppose it either.

 

 

 

### 23.

 

By now, all of France knows that their First Minister is dying. There are already celebrations going on, hidden from the eyes of the crown.

 

They celebrate the death of an enemy. He was the one fighting for their rights.

 

It makes Treville incredibly angry. Even more so because he knows that Richelieu is aware of it. His body aches, like the Cardinal’s. Burdens of a shared soul, he says to himself. Not age, not weariness, he has to stay strong now. The king needs his support, while his First Minister’s health is rapidly degrading.

 

If they were closer, the Captain would order Richelieu to take a break, to stop working for a moment, to catch his breath.

 

But they aren’t, and even on his sickbed (Treville is afraid to call it _deathbed_  just yet) the Cardinal writes letters and commands the kingdom. And he teaches Cardinal Mazarin everything he knows – for the Italian will be his successor at the side of the king.

 

Treville doesn’t want to think about it. Now that time is running short, now that the man who could have meant happiness for both of them is slowly fading from this world, he wishes he had tried harder, years ago, when he had tried to get through to the Cardinal.

 

The dreams are mostly red again, but the comforting whisper of silk on marble is missing; instead, rasping, strained breathing can be heard. The Captain hates every second of these dreams, but he wouldn’t wish them to stop for even a moment. Because every dream means that his soulmate is still alive. That there might be a bit of hope left for him, for _them_.

 

He is not allowed in the rooms of the Cardinal, for he has never been one of his confidants.

 

So he walks the street of the city by day, that Richelieu can see the country through his eyes by night. It is everything he can give him, even when it’s not enough.

 

 

 

### 24.

 

Winter comes fast that year, and December brings cold and wet winds from the sea. The talk that Richelieu is nearing his end, _fast_ , is everywhere, now. Treville tries not to listen.

 

For the first time in months, maybe years, he sees clear in his dreams, that night. The king is sitting beside him, staring down at him with worried eyes. He fights for his composure, not yet failing but close to. Every breath hurts, little sprinkles of blood are spread all over his linen and blanket. His mouth tastes of iron and copper and mucus.

 

Very carefully, the king reaches for his hand, touching it with the reverence of a child confronted with something it can’t explain.

 

 _You say you don’t regret the things you did for France_ , the king says, his voice soft, as if not to scare the red beast. _Tell me, is there something else you do regret? Maybe I can right what you did wrong._ A last service from the master for his slave. The weak smile he feels himself giving hurts.

 

 _I do regret_ , his soulmate answers. _But it is nothing you can right, Your Majesty._

 

 _I am king of France_ , Louis XIII returns, sounding a little petulant, _there is_ nothing _I can’t make right, somehow._

 

 _No, Your Majesty_ , the Cardinal disagrees. _I regret never acknowledging my soulmate._ Darkness fills his mind when Richelieu closes his eyes, so weak, so fragile. _This is nothing you are able to correct when I am no more_.

 

When light and colours come back (red, so much red), the king stares at him, aghast.

 

 _You have a soulmate. And you know who it is._ The nodding hurts. As does his heart when Louis pulls back his hand. Treville knows that Louis has never found his soulmate but was married off anyway to the Spanish princess. He never even had the opportunity to try and find happiness. And to hear now that Richelieu has thrown his away, willingly, knowingly… Treville thinks he knows how the king feels, at this moment.

 

When he wakes up, only moments later, he knows he has no time to lose.

 

 

 

### 25.

 

Louis is still there when Treville barges through the doors, only in his regular leather armour, nothing fancy, nothing extraordinary. There is no time.

 

The king looks at him, with surprise first, then with understanding. He rises to greet the captain of his favourite regiment and in his gaze Treville sees mirrored what he already knows.

 

Richelieu looks small in the huge bed, his eyes closed and the silver strands glued to his head by sweat. A drop of dried blood colours the corner of his mouth an unnatural red and for a second the musketeer regrets coming.

 

What is he doing here?

 

 _The Cardinal has never asked for his presence in life, why should he do so in death?_ he asks himself, before a voice inside his head answers truthfully: _Because he admitted that he regrets his choices regarding you_.

 

When Treville sinks down beside his soul’s rest, Richelieu opens his eyes. It’s the first time the Captain can remember truly looking at them, eyes like dark amber, now burning with fever but still the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

 

Carefully, he takes off his gloves and lays them down on the ground.

 

Searching for permission in the Cardinal’s face, he reaches for his hand, wrapping both of his around it. The fingers are cold, but the skin softer than he could ever have imagined.

 

In a futile attempt to hide his tears he bows his head and presses their hands – joined, touching for the first time – against his forehead.

 

“You are forgiven,” he whispers hoarsely. Their bond flares, light in the darkness of their minds, beauty in this hour of loss. He feels Richelieu trying to suppress a sob that might very well turn into a nasty cough, and he wishes he could help his soulmate in any way.

 

None of them hears or sees the king deserting the room, leaving them in each other’s company.

 

“I’m sorry,” his Eminence rasps, trying to get a few words more out. Treville looks up, to his eyes, caressing the soft hand, and repeats, his own voice still barely above a whisper: “You are forgiven.”

 

He manages a weak smile for his soulmate, relishing in the warmth their bond emits.

 

When the Cardinal closes his eyes again, he smiles, looking at ease for the first time in as long as Treville can remember.

 

And with the light of the new day, their bond slowly extinguishes.

 

Richelieu is gone.


End file.
